Hands
by kaitou-marron
Summary: HikaAki or AkiHika. This one's not so particular. Simple chores bring out Hikaru's contemplative side, and flirting and fluffiness ensues.


**Disclaimer:** Standard "I own nothing" stuffs

**Author's notes:** I was looking over my old fics in attempts to get back into writing and realized I never shared this. This oneshot was written over the summer for a live journal community created to give hostilecrayon motivation to stop smoking. It's pure fluff, but I thought I'd make an offering…

**Hands**

From his position perched at the kitchen counter, Hikaru stared at Akira focusing on the elegantly long-fingered hands plunging back into mounds of soapy water. Silently, he marveled at how he could stay fixated on watching Akira do the dishes. However, the most mundane tasks seemed to have more meaning when Akira did them. It sounded stupid, even to himself, but he sat watching and not feeling bored at all.

"Are you going to talk today?" Akira asked Hikaru, placing another bowl carefully into the drying rack that sat to his right. With the gentle nudge of his wrist, he brushed the hair away from his face.

Hikaru watched as cooling drops of water pooled at the end of Akira's fingertips and beaded off once gravity became too much for them. "Hmm?" he asked absently as his eyes followed the downward splatter of water droplets.

"It's your own rule," Akira reminded him, picking up the sponge once more. '_And one you're adamant about,'_ he thought to himself. Since Hikaru wasn't accustomed to taking care of himself, Akira found that a majority of the household chores became his responsibility when they had moved in together. However, Hikaru insisted on at least keeping Akira company during these tasks. Whenever possible, the two of them talked as Akira cooked, did the dishes, took care of the laundry, or any of the assorted chores he found himself in charge of.

At first Akira told Hikaru not to waste his time and to take the opportunity to study Go, but his blonde-banged counterpart argued stubbornly (and loudly) until Akira eventually relented and allowed him to idle around during chore time. Almost immediately, he grew fond of those times together, light conversations without the threat of arguing that Go games brought forth. In fact, Akira actually began looking forward to doing these domestic tasks and often times found his heart pattering a little more quickly when he called for Hikaru to join him. Tonight had been different so far, and with a displeased frown Akira was reminded of the fact that the conversation was sorely lacking.

Hikaru's eyes flickered up and caught the sour look on Akira's face, which prompted him to say something. "Are you almost done?"

"Yes," Akira answered a bit cautiously, as he set his favorite tea mug out to dry. Hikaru's silence proceeded once more. "Are you just going to stare at me today?"

"Would you mind if I did?" Hikaru returned, giving a familiar bad boy smile.

A bit relieved that Hikaru seemed to have some semblance of normality, Akira felt his earlier concerns slip away, as he focused on his dishes again. "Do whatever you'd please," he murmured.

As he continued washing, the conversation failed to pick up, and Akira felt his initial worries resurface. Gaze sliding over to where Hikaru sat, he judged the other young man with quick glances using discerning eyes. Hikaru seemed to be in one of his serious moods, which was rather rare. However, the strangest thing was that Akira didn't get the feeling that Hiakru was spacing out. In fact, he was quite sure the eyes of the other young man were focused on him. Wordlessly, he proceeded with his task until he found himself shaking off excess water from the last of the utensils. Neatly, Akira placed them in the smaller compartment of the drying rack and patted his hands dry with a towel. Walking over to he leaned over and asked, "What's bothering you today?"

"N-nothing," Hikaru said after a brief moment of hesitation.

Acute, piercing gaze noticed the slight furrow in Hikaru's brow, the slight dimming of his normally bright eyes. "Hikaru?" he asked, tone holding a gentle warning.

"I was just – nevermind."

"What is it?" Akira asked with a sigh. There were still times that Akira felt as if he still had to take care of Hikaru, but this sort of nurturing was not something he minded.

"It's just that I want … to see you hands."

"My hands?" Akira asked, eyes widening in surprise. Instinctively, he held them out in front of his face inspecting the palms as if he expected to see something wrong. Just as he was turning them around to look at the other side, Hikaru grabbed his right hand and gripped it in both hands, thumbs gently but insistently forcing the fingers into a wider spread.

Hikaru's gaze intently fixed on his fingers him made Akira a little uncomfortable, so he tried to pull away. "Come on, they're a little wrinkled from the water and they smell like dishwashing detergent."

Shaking his head, Hikaru said. "That's not what I was thinking about. I just remembered that you took my hand once when we had just met." Reverently, he brushed the tip of his thumb against the nail of Akira's index finger. "Do you remember that?'

'_Of course I remember, you idiot,'_ Akira thought, shaking his head, '_It was the first time you caught my attention. Really caught my attention. The inconsistency of the smooth, exacting moves coupled with the exterior of a happy-go-lucky youth, one whose hands remained undamaged by handling the stones. How could I forget something like that?'_ Instead he shrugged.

"I thought you were a real weirdo back then," Hikaru told him laughingly.

Akira stiffened, eyes narrowing. "Thanks," he replied shortly.

"No, but I get it now," Hikaru said, a beatific smile breaking across his face. "I know what you were looking for." Gently, he turned Akira's right hand over, palm up and cupped it within his own. The fingers of his left hand danced against a little spot above the first joint. Staring carefully, he saw that the lines in that area were a little worn; the flesh had a slight dip that Hikaru was sure fit the arching circumference of a standard Go stone perfectly.

The action was so knowing and had such a strong implied familiarity built in, that Akira found himself shivering at Hikaru's unspoken observation. The look on Hikaru's face, the soft gentleness in his touch caused a warm flush to spread across Akira's body, but he forced himself to keep collected. That, indeed, was what the Touya men did in all situations not related to Go. "How long did it take you to figure that out?" Akira asked wryly, a slightly amused tone creeping into his voice.

Shrugging, Hikaru absently replied, "I was just kind of thinking about things."

Akira opened his mouth to gently tell Hikaru not to be silly, but never got the words out.

"So, the first thing you noticed about me was my hands. The first thing remembered about you were your eyes." He looked at Akira with a crooked smile, olive eye peering earnestly at his boyfriend.

"My eyes?"

"Yeah. Clear, challenging, pulling me forth without giving me a choice."

Akira frowned. Hikaru's testimony didn't sound particularly flattering. "So you pursued me against your own free will?" his voice was flat.

Hikaru laughed. "I didn't mean it that way. I mean that I couldn't not be interested, you know?"

"Oh." At least that sounded better.

A hushed silence filled the room, until all that could be heard was the ticking of the grandfather clock that Akira had taken from home. Blinking, Hikaru asked, "Well, aren't you going to say something more than that?"

"What made you think of these things?" Akira asked, still curious about Hikaru's contemplative mood.

"Nothing in particular. I was just watching you and was thinking about the past, thinking about us in the past. I just kind of remembered those earlier meetings."

"So, do you like my hands?" Akira asked, waiting a couple of seconds to make sure that Hikaru had finished speaking.

He nodded his affirmative. In that moment Akira pulled away, tugging his hand from Hikaru's tightening grip. Softly, the long haired boy laid his palm flush against Hikaru's cheek, fingers curling beneath the jaw. Hikaru blinked a couple of times, eyes unfocused, lips slightly parted, a pointed question written in his eyes.

"Let's go to the bedroom, and I'll show you what these hands can do," Akira told Hikaru, giving him that secretive, teasing smile that only he was allowed to see. With that, Akira stepped away, and heading out of the kitchen and into the bedroom that the two of them shared.

Pausing to process Akira's word, Hikaru found himself standing dumbfounded, hands still gripping the kitchen counter. He straightened his posture with a start and squeaked "Bedroom? Wait for me!" As he stumbled into the room, he saw Akira setting a couple of goke's down on the floor, the weighty sounds of the stones captured in their wooden cages rattled satisfyingly.

"Let's play! My hands are eager to place stones."

Deflated, Hikaru's voice had an empty echo to it as he asked, "Go?"

Akira nodded. "I keep my favorite set of stones in the bedroom." He sat down on the floor and folded his legs primly beneath him. Removing the lids off of the goke's, he lifted a pure black stone, which was nestled comfortably between his fore and middle finger. Akira, very well aware of what he had done, glanced at Hikaru with an amused twinkle in his eyes. "Go first," he said. "And then, maybe we'll see …"


End file.
